Remaining
by Runi-chan
Summary: A lone survivor has got to have one hell of a story, and he's sure the captain will want to hear it. Dr. Who/Star Trek XI xover. Set a few years after the film Trek , just after the Time War who .
1. Chapter 1

_I'm not sure how far I'm going to go with this, but the idea popped into my mind the other day and would not let me be. Enjoy, and remember, I own nothing. Set a year or two after the movie, everyone's in their element/no first-mission awkwardness. Kind of new to writing Star Trek though I've been a fan for ages.  
_

* * *

It was perhaps the most desolate stretch of space the Enterprise had come across. It wasn't that it was devoid of light (there were plenty of stars. As they slid through space, they weaved between the stars of Kasterberous);

It was that there was too much. Bits of planet floating by (with wreckages of buildings still attached). The bridge crew had to turn their collective heads more than once at what remained of what seemed to be once prosperous planets. An obvious thought passed through the crew, and each of them hoped another would not speak it.

It was obvious there had been a terrible battle here. But that was not why they had come. Similarly scarred expanses of space littered many different galaxies. Not far from Earth (at least, celestially speaking), there was a dark, jagged space where Vulcan had once been.

They came for the barely-detectable distress signal from the planet below.

"Uhura," Kirk isn't leaning his weight on the arm of the captain's chair; another bad sign, "can you pinpoint where the signal is coming from?"

Slim fingers pass over the controls, glancing the console's surface. She nods.

"Coordinates on screen."

"Spock, where is this?"

There is a long stretch of silence from the Vulcan--longer than usual. He looks up, face unchanged.

"Gallifrey."

Kirk arches an eyebrow.

"Gallifrey?"

"They are not part of the Federation, Captain," Chekov interjects, "as they have a strict non-interference policy"

He gains a few blank stares. The ensign shrinks, face growing red. Quietly, he explains.

"I did my thesis on time-space mathematics. Gallifreyian histories---what they have available--are full of theories on the subject. Remarkably precise theories...," Chekov's voice trails, unnoticed but for Sulu, who offers a smile. The crew of the Enterprise are given to their own hobbies. Sulu still practices his foot and bladework in his cabin, McCoy keeps memorbilia of home in his. First officer Spock's cabin is predictably bare, but for some Vulcan texts and meditative candles. He's never seen Uhura's cabin (and never will, if _certain people_ have anything to say about it), he's not sure he _wants_ to know what is in Scott's (but the Scotsman is always asking him to try his cooking), and Kirk's...

Well, everyone knows Kirk's hobby.

Soon, the typical landing party is awaiting transport to the surface below. All data shows it rough and ragged, but safe. A few probes sent ahead make sure of this for them, but the landscape is horrifying--all charred and destroyed. Montgomery Scott bites his lip, frowning at the images of the surface.

"It looks brutal," he sighs, "are you sure someone's down there?"

"Not entirely. It may be that the signal was broadcast some time ago, and we are only now just reaching the planet," Spock replies. Exact. Like always.

But this is not like always. The crew is too serious. Kirk shifts uncomfortably on the transport pad. Something's different.

McCoy shifts his belt, double checking his tricorder is there. A few more crewmen accompany them. The doctor doesn't like this--something feels off.

They reach the surface, and the cold is a shock. The land is absolutely barren of any life; trees seem scorched to the roots, rivers once abundant are dry. Spock scans the surface with his tricorder.

"There's something alive up ahead," and he is stepping carefully over the charred surface. Every step he takes, the ground crumbles a little under his feet, like charcoal. Before them, a citadel lies in ruins. Columns spiral halfways and quarterways up before dissolving violently into nothing. Glass litters the crumbling steps.

It looks like it was a beautiful city. Once.

The further into the building they go (at least, once they have convinced McCoy that no, the building will not fall in on them), the more Kirk becomes convinced that perhaps they shouldn't be there. Spock points out the glittering, curving script on the wall. One of the fellow crewmen takes a few pictures for Lieutenant Uhura to look at later.

Kirk is just about convinced they should leave when they start to find bodies--both humanoid and more grotesque. But the persistent beep drives them forward, letting them know someone, something...is still alive here.

They find him a little later, nearly naked and covered in blood. He has numerous wounds, but he is breathing. Bones jumps over the remnants of the room's ceiling and shifts into full doctor mode, checking vitals and seeing if anything is broken. Kirk has always been amazed by this--how McCoy, rough, obnoxious McCoy--has such a strange precision and gentleness to his manner. His fingers do not jab for a pulse--they feel lightly, and do not move the survivor's neck at all. He completes his preliminary check over.

"Is he alright for transport?"

"Yeah, yeah..fine, he's just... the heartbeat is weird," his brow furrows, but he does not leave the man's side.

"Kirk to Enterprise. We've found the survivor. Prepare to beam aboard."

The unknown survivor's neck arches as he gives a great shuddering breath begins to cough violently, expelling blood. McCoy is quick to turn the man's head (now that he is certain there are no neck injuries) so that he does not choke on his own blood. McCoy wonders to himself how someone could lose this much blood and still be alive.

A troubling, cold thought strikes him.

Perhaps it's not all his. He looks at the man--damp, cold blood matted against his skin, in his thatch of dark hair. His wounds are deep, and bones are broken, stretching beneath the skin. Whatever happened, it had been brutal. McCoy steadies himself against a piece of rubble, making sure the man does not move.

In swirling light, they are brought back to the ship--artifical light jarring to the eyes. The unknown man groans, and McCoy springs from the pad, making for a backboard at the wall. Scotty finally sees the lone survivor.

He is silent.

McCoy calls for assistance in moving the man to the backboard, groaning at Scotty's silence.

Something is definitely not right if Scotty is quiet.

It's a blur as they whisk the man away to the medical bay. Machines clean his wounds with astonishing speed, but McCoy is still troubled at just how pale the man is once he is cleaned up. As he sets the bones (which gains him a low, disturbing groan from the man) and double-checks the machine's sutures, he is reminding himself that he needs to start up a transfusion.

The man looks to be steel and sinew beneath the skin, which McCoy knows to be false (This man is very much human....or, well, as human as he could be). But there are features that betray this appearance--the eyes are deep, sunken, and he is thin as a rail. The computer tells McCoy that the man has two hearts, to which the doctor replies with a few choice explatives. Not that a binary vascular system was unheard of.

McCoy just had never encountered it. But they were beating soundly, if weakly.

"What happened here?" he sighed, brushing a hand through his hair. The decimated planets, the scorched one they'd just left...

He was starting to remember why he didn't like space in the first place when he hears the man shifting about. He's concious. Eyes stare blearily up at him (he is still sedated, to prevent him from injuring himself further).

"Well, good morning," and despite himself, McCoy smiles a little, "thanks for joining us. I'm Cheif Medical Officer McCoy--you're on the Enterprise."

The man's eyebrows knit together as his mouth works around the sedation and the damage there. It takes a moment, but he final spits out, "d...Theta Sigma"

"Nice to meet ya," he responds, then turns to page the bridge. A lone survivor has got to have one hell of a story, and he's sure the captain will want to hear it.


	2. Chapter 2

_I'm surprised that people are actually enjoying this--it was just a plot bunny that got lodged in my head. I don't want to delve too deep into either series' mythology, though, so the most we'll be getting from the Whoniverse is hints.  
_

_It's also worth keeping in mind that neither of these guys would actually reveal that much about themselves, so it's all dodging answers. And writing 9 so soon after is...just sort of putting me off, as is writing Spock. I keep feeling like his dialogue is way too verbose.  
_

_ Should only be another chapter or so after this, I think, but I've been wrong before. _

_Also--anyone following "Breakfast at the End of the World", it'll be wrapping up fairly soon. A few more crossovers (which reminds me, I should edit its categories soon) and then we're into the home stretch.  
_

_As always, I own nothing._

* * *

The quiet around this man is, for lack of a less poetic term, deafening. He's awake and sitting up, but not talking. Someone's brought him a meal from the galley, and he is hunched over it, eating without much interest. Kirk enters sickbay, followed by Spock (the Enterprise is heading back through the devastation to another, more populated region of space, for supplies). There's something just...odd about this man. Still, there is cause for diplomacy. Kirk clears his throat and the man looks over for only a moment.

"Captain James T. Kirk. This is my first officer, Mr. Spock."

The man takes another bite of food and nods. His response is quiet.

"Theta Sigma"

Spock's response is quick; there is not even the time for his brow to furrow in thought.

"That is a number, is it not?"

Suddenly, the man's head snaps up and he is staring at the half-Vulcan with a strange sort of light in his eyes. Spock arches an eyebrow at the response. As soon as this outburst has begun, however, it is over, and the man is back to staring at his bedsheets.

"It is."

"That is your name?"

There's an almost imperceptible pause before Theta Sigma responds.

"Yes, unfortunately. Not the most creative of societies," he winces as he speaks. McCoy frowns--there's a crack along the man's lower jaw, and several teeth are missing. But he does not miss the attempt at humor. Kirk cracks a smile, pulling up a chair beside the man's bed.

"Better than Tiberius," he responds, before his tone turns serious.

"I understand you're still recovering, but we do have some questions for you," and he turns back to glance at Spock, who steps forward to join his captain at the bedside.

"We discovered you in the ruins of a quite evidently fortified city. Among the multiple bodies we found there, you were the only one alive. The planet itself is thoroughly uninhabitable, but this seems to be a recent development. Can you inform us of what happened?"

Even as he says this, a terrible hunch forms in Spock's mind. When the man answers, the Vulcan already knows what he will say. He can see the weight settle on the stranger's shoulders as he responds.

"There was," he sighs, "...a war. My...," his breath hitches, and there is a pained look on his face, as if he's unable to continue. Before Kirk can say anything, he keeps on.

"Gallifrey had a race within a race--Time Lords. There was...another race, envious of them, of Gallifrey, and they'd fought for centuries. Somehow, it came to a last, great fight, and it wasn't supposed to come here, to come home...," the man's words are lost, incoherent as sobs begin to shake his form. McCoy can't bear to look, but he can't bring himself to leave. His voice shakes as he speaks clearly again.

"Now it's just me..."

"Are you certain that you are the only survivor?"

Theta Sigma's eyes lock with the half-Vulcan's, and seethe with a rage so deep it unnerves Spock. But the rage fades to a deep sorrow, and there's no venom in the man's voice when he responds to the question.

"There is no one else."

Spock knows that sorrow, but he still continues with his questions.

"No defectors, no evacuati---"

"No."

The finality in his voice halts the Vulcan for a second. Kirk continues.

"What was your role in this...battle?"

Theta's eyes burn with something ancient, and for a second Kirk is afraid. But it's just a flash, because the man is staring into his food, pushing it around disinterestedly.

"Just a soldier."

"What happened to the planet?"

"It burned."

"What do you mean, it...,"

"It. burned," the man's words are as terse as his tone, "all of it."

"Who did it?"

The man does not answer, but the half-Vulcan presses him for a response. They must know who has done this--and if they could strike again.

"Do you know who....,"

"Yes," Theta's breath hitches, "but he's dead."

No one asks him if he's sure. The coldness in Theta Sigma's voice is proof enough.

Kirk and Spock leave sickbay, following the smooth, curving halls back to the lift which has brought them down from the bridge.

"Man, lost the whole planet. I can't imagine that," Kirk sighs, glancing over at his first officer, "do you think he had anything to do with it?"

"Undoubtedly. However, it seems that whatever caused the warfare was self-contained--there's no reports of it elsewhere in the other quadrants or even on nearby planets."

"We can hope," he agrees, but his brow furrows as a thought catches him.

"Have you heard of a 'Time Lord', Mister Spock?"

"No, Jim, I have not."

The captain muses a moment, then shrugs.

"I'll look into it. In the meantime, I think he needs someone to talk to, to empathize with him."

Spock is silent for a moment, only arching an eyebrow in response.

"Jim, you are aware that Vulcans are not fond of open displays of emotion, correct?"

Kirk smiles.

"Yeah, but you're only half," the captain leans in, patting Spock on both shoulders, "empathize."

Kirk turns to leave, and gets a few steps down the hall.

"Captain, with all respect...," the half-Vulcan responds, "I am not the crew member for this. Perhaps Lieutenant Uhura, or Ensign Chekov would be better suited to..."

He is cut off.

"Look, he's just lost everything. I know no one on this ship knows how that feels more than you do. I'm sorry, really, truly sorry that this is bringing up some...things you'd rather keep buried, but I am asking you, please...just talk with him. It'd be cruel to ask him to keep it all in."

And with that Kirk is gone down the hall, disappeared into the lift. Spock sighs.

That is what he had wanted to avoid. Losing Vulcan had almost cost him his mind, and it was not a space he wished to revisit. Still--it had happened, and anger and grief would not change the fact that it was gone.

And perhaps, Theta Sigma knew that of his own world as well.

When Spock enters sickbay, McCoy is elsewhere. Theta Sigma is resting, but opens his eyes at the sound of the doors sliding open.

"You are awake."

"Not a very heavy sleeper," he responds, eyes everywhere but on who his is talking to. Spock stands at the patient's bedside.

"The captain sent me to talk with you. There are a few questions that I had wanted to discuss with you outside of his presence as well."

"Such as?"

"I do not believe your name is really Theta Sigma."

Theta smiles. Weak, but it's there.

"Ah. I do not believe your name is really Spock, either."

The response catches him off guard, and Theta continues in the pause this allows him.

"No Vulcan would name their child something that simple."

Spock nods.

"Fascinating. How do you know of Vulcan tradition?"

"It's a beautiful planet...a lot like Gallifrey, actually. Even down to the the council of elders in funny robes. It is absolutely gorgeous in the mid-day..."

"Was."

Then Theta finally really, truly looks at Spock, and his face falls.

"Oh. I'm sorry."

Spock pauses a moment before he can continue.

"What is your true name?"

Theta chuckles, but pain insists he wince.

"You couldn't pronounce it."

"Ah," is all Spock responds, struck by the coincidence. He continues to speak with the man.

"You have been to Vulcan?"

"I've been a lot of places," he sighs, a sadness lingering in his eyes, "mostly so I didn't have to be home. They were not great fans of me back here."

"But you came back to fight?"

"You don't have to like your soldiers, as long as they are doing what you say."

This makes absolute logical sense. Not emotional sense, perhaps, but that is not the half-Vulcan's area of expertise.

"Indeed."

Theta sighs, his voice humming low as he does so. If he tries, Spock can hear Theta's voice shaking with loss, even without words. There is no kind-hearted friend to talk to, no place to let it go. Just a stranger on a starship, speeding away from home. He speaks again (McCoy will tell them later that Theta sporadically blurts seemingly nonsense statements and names he can't repeat without breaking down), a realization dawning on him. The half-Vulcan notices that the man is not speaking English. It feels far older than anything he has heard before.

Theta balls his fists in the sheets, mumbling in another language, furiously wiping away tears (not caring that a few of his fingers are bound up in splints and peppered with stitches, or that his cheekbones are bruised). He looks up at the half-Vulcan.

"My people, my family...it's...really gone."

"I am sorry."

And Spock can't bring himself to continue, not out of pity, but of respect. Theta Sigma was having a mental breakdown, and was faced with a cold wall. Another crew member would have been a wiser choice. The half-vulcan excuses himself to find Lieutenant Urhura--perhaps she can help him discover this man's language.

But he is not past the door before he feels that he must turn back, and at least try.

"My...my mother died on Vulcan," he spits out, almost so quickly that it is incomprehensible. Theta looks up at Spock, the pain of losing everything finally hitting him square in the back.

"She was human," he finishes, unwanting to share more. Theta nods understanding, almost smiling.


	3. Chapter 3

_I'm back! Sorry for not updating sooner--work has been kind of ridiculous, as I keep getting 40 hour weeks when I am supposedly still PART TIME WTF) Life's been sort of crazy lately--sorting things out for school, sister was in a car accident (she's okay now, but she'll be out of work for a long while), and all that lovely stuff._

_I swear I WILL update Breakfast At The End of The World soon..probably the next time I get a few days in a row off. Also, I think there'll be maybe one more chapter of this. I know how I'm getting "Theta" back where he belongs, and keeping the contact between these two series glancing.  
_

_Thank you all for the reviews! I have a habit of doubting my writing, and honestly I thought my characterization was a little off. Thanks for all the kind words letting me know that I'm doing just fine! Hopefully I can continuing properly characterizing when I start writing some "Good Omens" fanfiction--which should be sometime soon. (It's one of my favorite books, and quite honestly, I love Aziraphale and Crowley, especially as a pairing. The book kind of does everything but shout that the two are quite close--and repeated canon references to Aziraphale being THE GAYEST THING EVER do not help)  
_

_As always, I don't own either series--if I did, I certainly wouldn't be worrying about paying for school._

* * *

Nyota Uhura has never seen anything quite like this before. Her eyes trace over the script in the pictures, marveling at the structure of the characters. It is beautiful, she thinks, but as hard as she tries, she can find nothing even remotely similar. She does not know what this is.

Spock returns to the bridge quietly, resuming his customary place beside Uhura. She arches an elegant eyebrow at the look on his face (he almost looks embarrassed), but when he meets her eyes, she offers a smile. He almost reciprocates, and she can see it in his eyes. Almost is good enough for now.

Kirk spins lazily around in his chair, a puzzled look on his face at Spock's return.

"Oh, hey. Did Mister uh...,"

"Theta Sigma," the half-Vulcan responds.

"Yeah--any more news?"

"Not much of note--he spoke of a family. He does seem to have traveled away from his planet extensively, up until this 'war'."

"Did he say how?"

"No. I believe he had just realized his loss as I left."

Kirk's eyes widened.

"You left him down there?"

"Doctor McCoy returned before I left."

"Geez Spock...," Kirk pressed a hand to his temple, trying to think of something. He respected Spock---they were shipmates and everything--but he wished the half-Vulcan would not shy away from things. Especially if they concerned emotion.

Uhura lays a sympathetic hand on Spock's arm.

"I'll go talk to him captain, if I may," Uhura only pauses for an okay from Kirk to pull the communicator from her ear and set it on the table in front of her. Spock is staring resolutely at the screens in front of him, and he barely looks up as she enters the lift. They work this way--he is unwanting to show emotion, because it has been thumped firmly into his brain that he must always control any sort of feeling. She is alright with this, and even in the privacy of their own quarters, he does not speak of his emotions.

Instead, he shows her with actions as he leaves soft touches on her skin, as he holds her when she has to tiptoe to reach his lips with hers. He watches the lift descend for a moment, then turns back to the screen. He begins to scour the Federation data banks for any information on Time Lords.

--------------------------

McCoy keeps going over the results, but repetition does not change the data. Theta Sigma showed up broken and bruised. Now, the broken bones seemed to be healing at an unusual pace. He compares x-rays from when Theta arrived, and five minutes before the current time. Hairline cracks were filling. Bones were drawing together and mending. It didn't make sense. He glanced over at Theta, who was staring blankly at his feet.

Something was off about this man. McCoy tossed the chart back onto the table and walked to Theta's bedside. The man stared up at him, and McCoy could not help but notice the fresh pink skin under a few of the rows of stitches. He made a mental note to tell the captain, and tried to get Theta to talk.

"Any better than earlier?"

McCoy could not help but wince when the man turned his head to respond. There was something behind Theta's eyes that was dark and unpleasant and went on forever. It was unsettling.

"A little," he responded, voice still quiet, "physically, at least". He shifted in the too-large Starfleet clothing, the fabric draped over his thin frame like a plaster skin over a wire armature. McCoy knows he should say something, but he's a doctor, not a psychologist. Instead, he rattles off medical statistics to Theta, and tries to ask more about where he came from.

He gets cryptic responses and wishes the half-Vulcan had not excused himself, because McCoy certainly can not decode the stranger's statements.

The doors slide open with a cool _whirwhirwoosh_ and Uhura enters. She nods at McCoy, who gestures her over to speak for a moment.

"He's been in and out the past few hours. Can't really get a straight answer out of him," McCoy sighs. He's got a ton of questions, and very few answers. Uhura nods.

"I think I can handle it, doctor."

The men on the Enterprise aren't much for straight answers either.

When she sits down to talk to him, he looks over and almost smiles. She touches the back of his hand in lieu of a handshake and introduces herself. She's not often found herself to be the ship's "mother", and she's certainly not the only woman on the crew (Christine Chapel comes to her mind), but she spent much of her high school career being mediator between friends. After some time on the Enterprise, she sometimes found herself taking the same position.

She sees many things in Theta that she recognizes in Spock.

"How are you?"

He doesn't answer verbally, instead only stares at a point on the wall.

"If you don't want to talk, that's fine," she continues, making sure she does not brush her fingers too closely to his, "but I'm right here."

A good half an hour goes by before he reaches out for her hand and his voice shakes. He's not speaking English though. It is musical and lyrical and so exact and so old, and he keeps muttering in it. She is fascinated by this language, but more by this man. She can feel the loss weighing on him, settled squarely on his shoulders.

"Breathe," she reminds him, and he takes a few shuddering breaths before he can try to talk to her. Nothing coherent comes out, though. Not for a while. When he finally can speak, his voice is timid and quiet. It doesn't suit him, she thinks. She smiles knowingly at him, and he finally speaks clearly.

"I'm alone. I'm the last one," he mutters. There is so much sorrow in his voice that she has to swallow the knot in her throat before she speaks.

"I know it probably means nothing, but I'm so sorry," she pulls a tissue from the box near Theta's bed and offers it to him to dry his eyes. He takes it, but it remains balled up in his fist, unused.

"It wasn't supposed to come home. I fixed it so it wouldn't...oh Rasillion...," he cursed softly, and kept repeating something in the other strange, ancient language. If Uhura had known Gallifreyan, she would have heard him admit that this devastation that they had passed through was his fault entirely.

But Gallifreyan had been a dead language for years before, and passed through records like a ghost--there was almost no trace of it left anywhere but the Citadel,which was lying in ruins. His secret was safe from the crew of the Enterprise, and indeed would be his alone to keep until he ran into a young shop girl who would turn his world around.

Uhura offers Theta something to drink, which he takes a sip of and doesn't touch again. She stays by his side, trying to comfort him, while he says little. McCoy hovers in the background, wondering how he's going to tell Kirk that this man that they just rescued, with his thin frame full of broken bones and stitches, is slowly starting to look like he never saw battle at all.

Eventually, Uhura begins to try to leave the room. But Theta's hand is firmly on hers, and she sits back down. He doesn't quite look at her, but she knows the intention behind the action, and she will stay until at last he mutters something like, "I'm sorry," and lets her go.

----------------------------------------

Spock has spent the past few hours staring at the screen, truly fascinated by what he has managed to find out about Time Lords. It is not a phenomenal amount of information, and it gives almost no information about any interworld tensions, but what he does know he is utterly amazed by. They can pilot themselves through space and time--a concept that still leaves a sour taste in his mouth.

But then he finds something in files from, of all places, Earth, from an organization that spanned multiple continents--UNIT. It described how they employed a time traveler, and how even though he'd change his face (just how they didn't say), he'd been there for a long time.

"Jim, I think you need to see this."


	4. Chapter 4

_Alright, final chapter time! Keep in mind that since this is in the Earth's future (never mind that the movie is alternate universe), so they would have a little more information on Theta/Doctor than he actually does. Stupid timelines._

_ If anyone's not been following with why 'Theta' is healing so fast, I direct your attentions to "The Christmas Invasion", where Ten was able to regrow a hand because he was within however many hours of regenerating and blahblahblah.  
_

_As always, I own nothing. I hope you enjoyed "Remaining"!_

* * *

An hour before it all goes to hell, Theta finally brings himself to get out of bed and try to walk. His legs are stiff and sore from disuse, but he presses onward. McCoy tries to encourage him to lay back down, but Theta is having none of it. He slowly stumbles his way around the room, looking for something very intently.

"Look, if you're not going to lay back down, at least---dear God man, put that down---at least tell me what you're looking for."

Theta stares at him blankly. Oh. That.

"The bathroom's right here."

But it doesn't seem to be what Theta's looking for, because he sits himself down on a chair and looks up at McCoy.

"Thank you," he finally manages, "but you really should have left me there."

McCoy's eyes widen.

"Are you crazy? You would have died!"

A hint of a smirk passes over Theta's face--almost too quick to be noticed.

"If I was only so lucky," he mutters. McCoy wants to respond, but thinks it better not to. He's never had that sort of loss strike so close to his heart--he really doesn't know.

The doctor hands Theta a glass of water and a few pain pills.

"Take these. You'll need 'em."

-----------------------------------------------------

Kirk reads. He reads and rereads. He still cannot fathom what the screen is telling him--that the man on board his ship has woven his way through history over and over again. He sees records of his passenger in ancient Greece, through the Victorian era of England, and everywhere in between. He sees so many faces--all the same man. U.N.I.T. called this man "The Doctor". This Doctor doesn't seem to try to keep in contact with them after a while, but they always know what he looks like.

And he sees Theta staring back out at him, sullen. His hair is gone, cropped short. Beyond 'Theta' are several more faces, younger and far more boyish. But they look far older than Theta in the eyes.

The captain leans back in his chair and pinches the bridge of his nose. He utters the only thing this new knowledge will allow in response.

"Holy. shit."

Spock gives him a disapproving glance for the language, but he shares the same sentiments. This man is simply impossible. And wrong. He disrupts the order of things whereever he goes, and there is a trail of lost lives behind him that halts the half-Vulcan's voice in his throat. Kirk's brow furrows in thought for an abnormally long period of time. He turns to Spock.

"What now?"

Spock pulls his hands from the console and rests them on the arms of his chair, trying not to think about how the files also say that this Doctor has saved Earth an innumerable amount. The emotional part of his mind is asking him where they have the right to judge the man. Logic tells him that the more they analyze the situation, the more evident it is that this man was responsible for the destruction all around them.

"Confront him. There is not really anything else we can do. There are numerous account of his...," Spock cranes his head back to glance at the screen again, "...companions dying while in his company. He could prove to be a danger to this crew, and we cannot take that chance."

Kirk sighs, glancing out the view window.

"I guess not."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Violence wasn't too common among the crew of the Enterprise. The 'future' had proven conducive to planet spanning peace and tolerance and everything people had once dreamed of. It seemed like only in the stars did they find the tension and prejudice they felt they had outgrown.

So Theta's loud cursing and the sound of bodies hitting against the wall certainly was startling.

It had begun peacefully enough. The higher-ranking crew members joined their survivor in the sickbay, silent. McCoy gestured for the captain and the science officer to join him at the console, while Ensign Chekov began to speak with Theta (who, much to his surprise, spoke almost perfect Russian--peppered with words in a language he could not understand). When they see the x-rays, at first Kirk does not understand.

"Is this two different people? I don't..."

"Jim, this," McCoy pointed to the screen on the left, "was taken when he got here."

McCoy taps on the image and highlights the fractured bones as the image scans over Theta's body. McCoy points to the screen on the right. There are hairline cracks where clean breaks once showed.

"That was taken twenty minutes ago. They're both of him," he gestures toward Theta with his head.

"I've never seen this before. It's....," the doctor fumbles for words, "...wrong."

Spock looks back to where Theta is talking to Chekov. Theta certainly looks no less devastated, but he's sitting in a chair. Even with the medical technology that Starfleet possessed, healing this quickly was impossible.

It doesn't take much to rouse anger from Theta. It's all a matter of figuring out what works and what doesn't, and working from there. Like water cleaving rock in two, you just need a small crack in the armor to begin.

In Theta's case, it's U.N.I.T. A mention of the organization and he shudders. That leads to more questions, and the more the captain asks, the more Theta (alias, The Doctor) realizes just how much they know.

And it's far more than they should. Oddly, the Doctor was never one to yell, at least not in anger. But the horrendous rage he was burying rushed back to the surface with an unmatched speed and he is screaming in so many different languages.

"I didn't ever mean for any of that to happen! You don't understand!"

When the stronger members in the room attempt to hold Theta back, he wheels back and avoids their grasp. When McCoy and Kirk try again, he grabs their arms and flips them both into the wall. They slump to the floor in a heap.

Spock lunges forward in practiced steps, and aims to disable Theta with a Vulcan nerve pinch. He is unsuccessful, and his eyes widen when he discovers that Theta's had some training in the same fighting styles as the half-Vulcan has. Spock tumbles to the floor, and only Ensign Chekov is left standing between Theta and the door. This problem is solved easily by a punch right into Chekov's ribs. The young man crumbles, and Theta bolts out the door, skittering his way around any crew wandering the hallways.

Kirk rights himself, still a touch out of breath.

"Everyone okay?"

He's met with a chorus of groans.

"нет, " Chekov mumbles, tenderly touching his side. A rib or two is definitely broken, but otherwise he is fine. Kirk knows his nose is broken, but ignores it. Everyone seems winded, but otherwise fine. They tear off down the hallway, trying to stop Theta, who is currently trying to break into an escape pod. His fingers flutter over the keypad, and he swiftly gains access. The doors slide shut as the captain of the Enterprise and company round the final corner.

All attempts to stop the small craft are futile, as it rockets away from the enterprise and dips down through space. The crew will race back to the helm and try to follow Theta, but will be stunned when the small ship disappears in front of their eyes. He is gone.

There's the sense that they should something--try to calculate where he's gone, how he's done it, but they can't find anything that would aid them in finding him. Kirk makes note of the strange situation in the captain's log, and sends a report to Starfleet.

It's all he can do.

The Enterprise continues on its journey, exploring the depths of space. Theta races back towards Gallifrey, to the only place he's called home, and uses that 'home' to go back where he's comfortable, back where it's truly home--Earth. He drifts through the centuries, trying to push away the memory of his planet burning, of his people dying and cursing his name--his true name that no one can _ever_ know--and the unnerving feeling that someone was seeing right through him.

It will be a long, long age before they will ever meet again.

Theta (having now returned to using his alias "Doctor") has her hand firmly in his, and they are running. He's asking her to come along because he's in need of something even he's not sure of.

_She_ calls him Mr. Spock on one occassion, but the memory of his time on the Enterprise (like everything from around then) is hazy and distorted, and the name is unfamiliar to him. She doesn't notice the battered old Starfleet shirt lying crumpled in the corner of his wardrobe.

But when he changes his face and still later when _she_ is gone, there is Martha. Martha, whom is so much like the woman who came and held his hand that it is her he turns to when he finds himself truly the last of them all.


End file.
